


A big heart's an easy target.

by spacemonster



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonster/pseuds/spacemonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Undercurrents of questionable humanity and innate animal fears: I am scared of dying, and I am scared of betrayal. I am scared that something will happen to my daughter."</p><p>When the unthinkable happens, Aranea is forced to change forever if she wants to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A big heart's an easy target.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mericorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mericorn/gifts).



> TW: brief & non-detailed violence and murder

Looking out the window, I don’t believe how much has changed already.

Two weeks since the announcements were made, and this town has fallen into complete radio silence. The streets are empty save for stray animals wandering back and forth, whining in the summer heat. Time passes, sand in an hourglass, but more like molasses. Those endless summer days of my youth seem like distant imaginings now. This new reality is strange and timeless, somehow, as if things have always been this way. As if every day until now was spent whittling away the hours, staring at space, watching the falling dust, lit up in the midday sun. Kanaya comes and goes, bringing news of other survivors, but the situation seems bleak. So I stay here, sitting on my windowsill on the seventh floor. I imagine that the dust will collect on me, too, before long – but I always must move, just to stalk circles around my apartment, waiting for food, for news, for something. I am always so hungry. There is always this urgent feeling inside of me, lately.

I took a pregnancy test, too, two weeks ago. Instinctively, I already knew that this would not solely concern my own survival.

Kanaya suddenly bursts through the door, and the feeling is like waking up in the middle of the night, confused and anxious. She does not look injured this time – a relief – but her hair is out of place and her skirt is ripped.

“We have to leave,” she says, throwing off her backpack to shove random things in it – weapons, tins of food. “There’s a horde of them coming. Hundreds.”

I look out of the window again, to see people trailing down the street in dribs and drabs, groups and also those going it alone. Further north, there’s safety. Looking the other way, craning my neck, I can see in the near distance an oncoming threat.

“There are so many,” I say, and Kanaya makes an impatient noise.

“How much can you carry? Pack medicine,” she says, and I obey.

* * *

Kanaya pitches a tent in the forest, while I try to make a fire. It’s been several days since we’ve seen one of the monsters; we hacked its body up into pieces and buried them some distance from our camp. Since then, there’s been relative peace. I bundle dry twigs together and lay them at the base of my pile of logs, then strike a match and bury it between the logs. Soon there’ll be no matches left – I’m not sure what we would do then. We’re a couple of city slickers.

It’s moments like these that have been keeping me going, recently: the relative calm, the starlight trickling, falling, down through the leaves like rain. The sound of the brook running next to me, ebullient and burbling, much like a baby’s gurgling. I touch my stomach, frowning, and then brush the thought aside and grab the only pan we have. I fill the pan with water from the stream and then settle it over the log fire.

“Looks good,” Kanaya says gently, hammering the last of the tent pegs into the ground.

I remember Kanaya as something of a classical beauty, before all this happened. Her skin is dark and lustrous, her indigo hair cut into short, curled style, which is getting a little ragged. There’s no time for makeup anymore, but her natural beauty doesn’t call for it: her face is rounded, her cheekbones high, her eyes hooded and dark and infinite. Ah, I don’t love her, but I can see why anybody would.

We boil water, let it cool for a few minutes, and then drink it piping hot; we eat foraged roots and pan-cooked rabbit, tossing the entrails into the river to carry the scent of fresh meat somewhere else.

The next morning, there is a young woman curled into a ball lying by the embers of our campfire. I clap my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming, duck back into the tent, and shake Kanaya awake.

“What is it?” she whispers, her heightened awareness sharpened even in half-sleep.

“Someone outside,” I say. “A girl.”

Both of us creep out of the tent. The stranger is awake, now. She isn’t dressed for this – she’s wearing jeans, a button-down shirt. Her long auburn hair is full of pieces of plant matter, and her face is covered in dirt.

“Hi,” she says, and we both stare at her. “I’m sorry, I was just passing through.”

But she doesn’t move.

“Can we do anything for you?” Kanaya says, and I stare at her, but I don’t say anything. I would rather not share with strangers.

The girl collects herself and stands up, crossing the distance between us to shake Kanaya’s hand, and then mine.

“I’m Aradia,” she says. She seems warm. “I was looking for somewhere to stay.”

“Can you chop wood?” Kanaya says.

Aradia’s face splits into a huge grin.

“Sure can.”

Kanaya looks at me, and while I don’t approve of this, I nod nonetheless. We have food going spare, for now, and she’ll probably only stay a few days.

* * *

The child inside of me is growing only more insistent and hungry every day. She must be small, right now. Briefly I wonder how I can tell she’ll be a girl… it feels instinctual. I already know her name: Vriska, my poor, sweet child. I wish I could keep her from this place, but I will be glad to meet her. My maternal instincts are becoming stronger and more difficult to manage. Neither Kanaya nor Aradia know about my baby; I don’t intend to tell either of them. Nobody looks kindly upon another mouth to feed.

Aradia is bitten. I saw the wound yesterday, accidentally catching her as she bathed herself in the brook. Unfortunately, it was unmistakeable – a monster’s teeth had ripped the skin away revealing hot, red, inflamed flesh, and the rest of her forearm was already blackening and starting to rot. I know that she didn’t see me, but this situation is dire. I mention it to Kanaya one day, when Aradia is off checking our rabbit traps.

“We have to kill her,” Kanaya says immediately, and my jaw drops.

“Be reasonable,” I implore, but I can tell already that it’s a waste of time.

“Aranea, those things – think about your child,” she says, and I breathe in sharply. I want to yell at her, tell her she knows nothing about motherhood – but she’s right. “She’ll turn. Quite possibly, it will be soon.”

“We don’t have to kill her,” I say. “We just have to… we just have to leave.”

Kanaya shakes her head, and I can’t believe it. We’ve made it this far without having to hurt anyone else.

“I don’t want anything to do with this,” I say, and Kanaya nods, grimly.

I am woken by the sound of a gunshot, but I don’t leave the tent. I don’t want to know.

* * *

Kanaya left during the night, and took little with her. The next day, I buried Aradia about a mile away. I lived alone at our riverside camp for some days, or perhaps weeks – long enough that my bump started to show.

Somehow, during all of this, I have been putting on weight. I’m glad. There are few surfaces I can catch my reflection in anymore, but I run my fingers along the curve of my fattening cheek, and it feels good. I feel healthy, even though I’m not sure I understand my own body anymore. I feel Vriska moving inside me sometimes, maybe kicking her little legs, the most vital force in my whole body. I’m short, diminutive, but somehow knowing that she’s there makes me feel strong.

People pass by now and then, and sometimes we trade; strangers have tea, coffee, cigarettes, alcohol – not much that I want, but others have meat, fresh vegetables, and medicines. I never let them stay long, though, no matter if they’re half-starved or desperate; I’ll admit I’ve pulled a gun on a few people, but I never pulled the trigger.

One day, two girls stop by. I find them sunbathing on the riverbank in the afternoon, after I come back from chopping wood.

“Who goes there?” I say, and they introduce themselves: Rose and Jade.

Jade is a tall, strong, tan girl, with long black hair in a braid. Rose is smaller, curvier, and pale, covered in freckles and with a wispy blonde bob. They’re holding hands on instinct, so I assume that they’re involved. Briefly I think about Kanaya, and my chest hurts.

“Do you girls want to trade? I mean, can I help you?”

“Could we stay with you for a few days?” Jade says, and they both must have noticed my deep frown, because they shifted from side to side, looking uncomfortable.

“We won’t be any bother,” Rose says. “I promise.”

I want to tell them what I’ve seen; Aradia’s dead body, an empty space where Kanaya used to be… I want to tell them not to trust me, not to trust each other, because there is nobody you can rely on.

“I would rather you didn’t,” I say, and Jade looks crestfallen. “However, if you can gather meat or herbs, then you may stay for now.”

So they stay, and every evening we eat braised meats cooked with forest vegetables and flavoursome leaves – rosemary, mint, sorrel. I wonder how many rabbits there are in this forest – even if they were to run out, there is deer to follow. The days pass slowly; I waste much time collecting firewood and organising bonfires, watching Rose and Jade recline shirtless on the sandy river bank, bodies entwined. I wonder what it would be like to still trust anybody that much.

A month passes, and the girls still haven’t left. We have settled into a kind of routine; there’s mint tea every morning, because the stuff grows rampantly, and there are stories and jokes long into the night.

One morning, Jade accidentally catches me while I’m washing by the river. I’m turned away from her, but nonetheless, she spots my swollen belly. I pull my shirt back on as soon as I hear the rustling – she is already at my side. Turning on my heel, I catch sight of her awestruck expression.

“Holy shit – you – you’re pregnant?” Jade whispers, sounding reverent, and she reaches out to touch my ever-swelling belly.

Out of instinct, I slap her hand away, as hard as I can.

“Ouch! Aranea, what the hell?!”

“Aranea.” Rose materialises, padding down the riverbank, and she says my name in a warning tone. I am breathing so hard and so fast, and I don’t even really know why. These girls would not hurt me – I think. Kanaya turned on poor Aradia so quickly. Perhaps that’s the way things are now.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It’s my problem.”

“Right,” Jade says, but she and Rose look at each other in suspicion.

I mostly keep to myself after that – our routine falls apart. The two girls are so in love that they don’t seem to mind me staying out of their business. One day, Jade comes back from scouting the area looking delighted.

“I found another girl! Her name’s Terezi,” Jade says. “She says we can go and stay with her and her boyfriend. They had tons of stuff! Firelighters, and medicine… and so much food!”

She’s now looking directly at me – more specifically, at my baby bump.

“I know you said it’s your problem, but I feel like we should help you, Aranea,” Jade says, and I press my lips together. “You’ll be safer there than here.”

A million thoughts rush through my mind at once. I don’t like the idea of staying around a man; Vriska’s father certainly was no kind specimen. I would like to meet these people before joining them, but Rose seems happy enough – behind me she has started packing up the tent.

“All right,” I say. How bad could it be, really?

* * *

“Quit eatin’ everything,” Gamzee growls at me, and I blush and throw down my piece of meat. His frown twists his features into something terrifying. “We don’t got enough for everybody if you’re gonna be eatin’ like that.”

“Sorry,” I say, quickly. “I barely realised.”

On either side of me, Rose and Jade are looking extremely concerned. I pray that they won’t say anything – but Jade lets me down. She is too much of an idealist.

“Gamzee, she’s pregnant.”

Gamzee sets down the piece of meat he is eating, and to this day, I have no idea why I didn’t run. He grabs me by the collar of my dress, hauls me off of the ground and slams me into the nearest tree.

“Let go of her!” Rose cries, throwing herself against Gamzee’s back, but he sends her toppling with one arm. He is far stronger than any of us. I thought that would make us safe with him. I’m struggling to breathe.

“You didn’t say nothin’ about no baby,” he snarls, and I struggle under the pressure of his heavy palm. He must be two hundred pounds, six foot something. A big, scary white guy with a shaved head. Christ, this is clichéd. I wonder why my conscious brain decides to crack jokes in my last moments.

“I don’t need much to eat,” I wheeze. “I’ll eat less, I swear.”

“Nah,” Gamzee says, his eyes narrowing to sharp slits. “Your fuckin’ baby’s good as dead anyway.”

“That’s not true,” I gasp. He’s wrong.

“Gamzee, please, let her go,” Jade whines, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Aranea, I’m sorry.”

Terezi is still sitting by the fire, determinedly pretending that this isn’t happening. I don’t blame her; I never could. Women who love men like Gamzee do what they have to do. I can feel my chest tightening; I’m struggling to breathe and he’s only pressing harder on my throat, sending my vision blurry. I feel light-headed. I lash out, kicking him hard in the crotch, and he howls, but doesn’t let me go. Fuck.

The sensation of being stabbed is not something I can describe. He plunges his knife into my side.

“Oh my god,” is the last thing I hear, someone’s indeterminate voice.

My world fades into grey and white, a blur.

What feels like minutes later, I regain consciousness. I am lying beside a fire, on my back – I can feel the uncomfortable heat on one side of me. Above me, the sky is dark: the sun has long since set, it seems. I can hear little above the slow crackle of the dying fire, and I wonder if I have been left behind to die. Suddenly, pain sparks up my side; I clutch at it, to find it wrapped in bandages, my wound well-packed with gauze. It is not damp with blood, which seems a good sign.

“I’m thirsty,” I announce, to no one in particular; then I hear the tent unzip. Someone stayed with me. I pray that it won’t be Gamzee.

“You’re alive?” Rose says; she is so exhausted, I can tell, but she sounds glad to see me.

Soon, she is at my side, coaxing sips of water into my slack mouth. This would have embarrassed me in another life, but now I feel nothing but deep gratitude, as the cool water slicks my throat.

“He and Terezi fought,” Rose says, and then takes a shaky breath. I fear the worst already. She sets the water aside, and begins to stroke my hair. The soft human touch is so foreign and beautiful that my eyes prickle. I don’t ask her what happened. I know she won’t be able to bear holding it inside. Everyone bursts eventually, wide open like a broken dam.

“She killed him, but her own injuries were so severe, she… there was no way she could have survived. Jade carried you, I carried our supplies. We walked all day.”

She’s crying.

“You saved me,” I whisper, and then gesture vaguely to my wound. It is hard to lift my limbs. I don’t know what to say.

“Jade looked at your wound. He missed your – your baby,” Rose says, and my eyes spill over with relief. “Barely. I don’t know if… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Inside of me, Vriska must know she is being talked about. I feel her shift, a flutter. Already I can feel the questions I’ll have to answer, one day – one day soon enough. My daughter will want to know why I brought her into this world. And then I realise, I’m being too pessimistic. My daughter will ask me how. And I will tell her how we learned to survive.

“I think I will have to leave,” I find myself saying, and it makes sense.

“You want to go alone?” Rose says, sounding incredulous.

“I need to. Once I have recovered, I can’t – I’m vulnerable. I can’t be near others.”

Rose contemplates this briefly, chin in her hand, her elegant features arranged into a look of deep pain.

“Are you sure this isn’t just – are you sure you don’t feel like this because of your condition?” she says, and I can’t answer that question.

“I create trouble for others,” I say. “It’s dangerous for me to be with other people.”

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Rose says, and then she glances over to the tent. I presume Jade is sleeping soundly inside. “Please – you’ll stay until your wound is healed?”

Soon, I will give birth. Within the month, I think. I don’t want to be around others at that point. But there is no chance that I can travel far with an open stab wound, so I concede.

“I will.”

* * *

After Vriska is born, I head north. I see people on the way, but I hide from them, even those who are dying – who could use help. There is less danger here; few people can survive the harsh weather, the snow that reaches for miles, undulating desert dunes. In the first town I come by, I break into what must have been a family home, once. I find the entire family dead in the centre of their living room – looks like a suicide pact. A mercy killing. I consider the tiny babe in my arms, and grimace.

There is much to loot in this town, so I do. One day, crouching at the windowsill of my adopted home, I witness people roll through town. There is a shoot-out in the street; blood melts the snow and the roads run salmon pink. The next day, I take what I need, and I leave.

Vriska never cries – she is so quiet and still that, at times, I wonder if she has died, but her slow blink and snuffly breathing reassures me. She is, however, incredibly hungry – I know nothing about parenting, and I was not prepared for the ordeal of breastfeeding. It takes time to hunker down somewhere safe enough to expose my bare breast, and then the weather is so bitter cold that she can only feed for minutes at a time. When we camp out at nights, she feeds more deeply. Sometimes, we build a fire. She is my life; neither of us are going to die.

The next town over is in the shadow of a high ridge, which is demarcated by a river running along its high outline. Everything is still and quiet, save for the birds plucking the snow for the remnants of those who were left behind. I select a small timber house on a side street, which after a thorough inspection, appears empty. We stay there for some months, and I never see another person. I leave Vriska wrapped in bedclothes and I leave to hunt; I make the trek in the snow to the river and bring back water. I spent much of my time on the patio boiling water and cooking rabbit, Vriska swaddled close to my chest.

Left alone with my thoughts too long, they turn dark and terrible. I have to stay busy, stay in motion at all times even if it just means ticking over like a long-broken clock. Teachers feared me in grade school, for the stories I would write, things no small child should ever conceive of. Undercurrents of questionable humanity and innate animal fears: I am scared of dying, and I am scared of betrayal. I am scared that something will happen to my daughter.

One morning, I realise that if I stay in bed any longer, I will lose my mind. So I go into the back yard. It is bitter cold outside. Who can say what month it is? I set to chopping firewood.

Am I a bad person? This is the thought I have when I hear a young woman cresting the nearby ridge – I know she’s a woman because she is calling out for help, sounding increasingly desperate, strangled. Her voice rings down into the valley, into my yard. In my mind’s eye I conjure the image of her bleeding and battered, half-starved; I can just see her, a shape moving on the horizon. She is waving her arms. There are no monsters out here, but surely she must fear other people by now…

I shoot back into the house in a flash and race up the stairs; I grab Vriska and feel like a mother animal. I hold her close to my chest, and she doesn’t cry. Outside, the girl’s cries are getting too desperate and near for me to bear. I am evil in its purest form. That girl is going to die, and I am going to listen while it happens.

I look out of the window. I see her descending the ridge, I see her following the worn path down to the end of this road. I see her when she looks up, and realises I am in the windowframe. Her face breaks into an enormous smile – I can’t believe it, and soon, she is running towards my house. Ducking down immediately, I hold Vriska closer than ever, and she just squeaks and gurgles, oblivious. I don’t know what to do, where to go – nothing is packed up, and we were so safe here. The next town could be miles away, and the snow is thicker than ever now.

When I next peek out of the window, she’s standing in my back yard.

“Hello?” she calls up to me. “C’mon, just talk to me.”

I do not respond, instead inspecting her closely. She is a young black girl – perhaps my age, actually – her hair in braids, her face warm and sunny even in the middle of this hellhole. She has glasses. She is wearing a lot of clothing, but her cheeks are hollow with hunger. Against my better judgement, I crack the window open.

“What is your name?” I say, cutting her off before she can speak.

“Meenah,” she says. “Yours?”

I falter, and don’t answer. I keep Vriska hidden from her view as best I can. I am so afraid.

“Please go away,” I say.

“What? No way!” she says. I’d threaten to shoot her, but she would just call my bluff, I think. “I don’t wanna hurt you, lady.”

“There is plenty to eat in this town, and a river nearby. You can find your own shelter,” I say. The back door isn’t locked.

“I didn’t come here lookin’ for any of that stuff,” she says. “I ain’t seen another human being in – in – forever!”

“I can’t trust you. I’m sorry,” I say, but I’m not sorry for her – I’m sorry for me. I realise that she is young, and she is ostensibly alone. And then suddenly it feels right, so I tell her: “They tried to kill my daughter.”

“Wait, you have a kid? How long have you been out here?” Meenah says, and I suffocate the urge to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t,” I say.

“Well I can’t leave!” she snaps, “I’ll die out there!”

I don’t say anything; I am still half-crouching there, clutching Vriska. I am a wounded animal. I am not kind to strange women.

“Look, what I gotta do to prove myself to you?” she says. “I’ll do it.”

“Leave,” I find myself saying on instinct. “Bring food. Bring water.”

I turn, and grab an empty plastic bottle from the floor nearby. I open the window wider and throw it down into the yard; it lands at her feet. A gallon. She stares at me incredulously, holding up her hands, her white mittens soaked through with blood.

“Lady, are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“No,” I say, or I try to say, but it comes out as a half-yell, a strangled yelp, and Vriska whines and wriggles in my arms. I feel rage rise and fall like the tide. “No. Leave.”

“I –”

She narrows her eyes at me. I have carved out a good home here, a safe home. I can see the cogs turning in her mind, the slow realisation that without me, she is likely dead. Avoiding making eye contact with me, as one might an angry mountain lion, she leans down, picks up the bottle, and says, “Fine.”

I nod.

“But if I don’t come back, then I’m dead, and you’re to blame,” she spits, and I don’t say anything – I just watch her back as she leaves.

By the time the sun sets, Meenah has still not returned. I go down and I lock all of the doors, and retreat to bed, curving my weary body around my child. I wonder if I was the last person to see her alive; I wonder if mine was the last face in her memory before she passed. Or, perhaps she gave up and simply moved on. But she was travelling so light… with these worried thoughts in my mind, I fall asleep.

I am woken by the sound of knuckles rapping lightly at the back door. I am at the window immediately, squinting in the darkness – it’s Meenah again; I can tell by the lurid pink of her winter coat. I realise that she has fulfilled her end of the bargain, at least, I think so. So I dart down the stairs before I can change my mind, and ease the door open.

“I brought water,” she says. “And I raided a convenience store.”

She holds up two overflowing grocery bags, her soft eyes meeting mine.

“I didn’t know how old your kid was, so…”

I take a bag. There’s formula, diapers, baby food. When I look back at her, she looks overjoyed.

“I’m eighteen, by the way. I was up here for summer camp,” she tells me, and I nod, and I let her inside.

* * *

Meenah and I eke out a difficult existence, but it is no longer a misery. The snow melts; Vriska’s first birthday passes. There’s no cake, no cards. By the time the next snow comes, it feels like we’re family. But I don’t feel like Meenah is my sister, or anything like that. It is like having another parent to my child. I don’t think I would trust anyone else in the world; I would still kill anyone who tried to get in here, with my bare hands. But we haven’t seen anyone in so long.

One day, the news comes; a nice military lady at the front door. The helicopters had seen the smoke rising from our makeshift smoker. I feel so good, I offer the girl some deer jerky, and she laughs and says she is alright.

The disease has been contained. The nightmare is over.

Meenah and I step out into the noon-day sun; Vriska is on my hip. The tiniest shoots of the new spring are poking through the old crust of snow. A helicopter is coming back in a few days for us. I don’t know where I’m going to go.

“You got anywhere to go?” Meenah says, and I shake my head. “Me either.”

“Let’s stay together,” I say, and she grins at me.

A few moments pass; she fumbles in her pockets for a cigarette and lighter, presents from the lady who came yesterday. She lights her cigarette, takes a drag, looks like she’s about to say something, and then takes another drag. I’m looking over at the distant ridge. It’s hazy, unreal. Like the time I’ve spent in this town. Like the fact that we’ll be free soon.

“You know I love you?” she says, and when I look at her, she looks like a wasp just stung her. Irritable. Angry. She’s irascible. “And I love your damn kid. I want to be with you.”

“Oh,” I say, and then give her a long, slow stare. Vriska paps her hand against my cheek, which ruins the moment somewhat. Meenah’s lip quivers, and then she laughs: her creaky, over-loud guffaw, like the sound of crows braying.

I’ve done evil things, I know. Things I will never be able to reconcile. But crimes were committed against me. I feel I have degenerated, I feel that there’s no good left in me, but Meenah makes me feel like a human being.

“I love you too,” I say, because I do, and I can’t lie to her.

In the aftermath, we stay together. It’s turbulent, and confusing, and upsetting. I know I’m not kind, or forgiving, or as mindful as I could be. I know that I will never be normal. But I’m still alive.


End file.
